


One More Remark About The Suit And Tom Dies

by notkewlio



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, crack ship YOOOOOO, dear megan i hope you like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notkewlio/pseuds/notkewlio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is pretty much shamless tatsby, as my friends call it. god this is pretty embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Remark About The Suit And Tom Dies

It was a hot, hot, hot day.

Even in Gatsby’s light colored suit- it was blush pink- Gatsby was sweltering in the heat. His profound riches couldn’t bring ice fast enough, open enough windows, it was just so hot.

The others agreed too. The others being Tom Buchanan and his wife Daisy, Jordan Baker and Nick Carraway; they too were simply useless in the heat that beat in on them from every possible angle.

The group of them had gathered at the Buchanans house. Ice blocks had been brought in, cool hunks of clear ice that the group had unconsciously centered themselves around.  
“Open another window..” Daisy said softly.

“There isn't any left.” Nick protested, gesturing to the walls, where the faint breath of the wind was whispering in.

“Then telephone for an axe.” Daisy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Gatsby on the other hand, was up, facing the long table with clear glasses and tall dark bottles spread along its surface. He kept running his fingers over the condensation on his glass.

“The best thing to do is forget about this heat.” Tom advised gruffly. He was laid back in his chair but still seemed ready to fight at a moments notice. “You only make it worse by crabbing about it.”

“Then, Jay, why don’t you tell us a story…” Daisy murmured. Her pale skin glistened with the small beads of sweat collecting on her forehead and above her delicate lips.

“A story?” His head barely lifted away from its stooped pose over his liquor glass.

“Yes, tell us a tale of how you became to be the _great_ gatsby.” Jordan intoned, sitting up, looking a royal among slobs. She had lost the balancing act that often took place on her chin in the heat, but still looked magazine cover ready.

Tom scoffed.

“ _Great_? What’s so great about a man who wears a pink suit?” Gatsby’s head lifts up a fraction of an inch, the back of his neck flushing with anger.

Daisy sighed. Their fighting had become more often and intense as of late; with the rising sun it started and with the heat it grew more angry. “Please, boys, don’t start a row. We’ve all heard this before.” Nick nodded, almost imperceptive in the background.

“No, listen here. This man, Gatsby, I’ve done a bit of investigating into his past. I don’t think-”

“Tom, I’ve said it a hundred times, I did go to Oxford and you can’t convince anyone but yourself otherwise.” Gatsby said as he turned to the broad figure now perched on the edge of his chair. Gatsby’s hand was tight around his glass.

But no, Tom was only getting started. His sharp jaw flexed as the anger of being interrupted flushed through his veins.

“Listen here, I was simply saying that I don’t think you’ve come unto your money legally!” The breeze wheezing through the window had stopped, the air was dead still as Gatsby’s and Tom’s gaze met. “I’ve met this Wolfshiem character and I am sure this _gangster_ is running an illegal alcohol selling businesses and I am positive that is where you’ve stumbled onto your money! You’re trying to sink your claws into respectable people like me and Daisy.” Tom had stood, his thick figure wide and intimidating.

“Is that so?” Gatsby seethed through his teeth.

“I mean, look at you! Only-”

“One remark more about my suit, Tom, I swear I’ll-”  
“A man born into wealth would never flaunt their wealth quite so eagerly, Gatsby.” The way Tom practically spit Gatsby’s name set everyone’s teeth on edge. Tom had twisted the name in his mouth, chewed it up and spat it back out… he made an insult of Gatsby’s own name. Tom began to slowly swagger around the room, all the time keeping his level gaze locked with Gatsby’s. “Wearing one’s money quite like you do is a sign of something quite simple really.” Tom inhaled casually, as if he couldn’t bear to break the news. “Its a sign of low breeding. I mean, you’re not really one of us, are you? We’re different than you.”

Gatsby’s angry gaze had dropped to the floor and his eyes had glazed over. His chest rose unsteadily with his shaky breathing, his ice clinking quietly in his glass as his furious fingers gripped it.

“We were _born_ different, Gatsby.” Tom approached Gatsby’s shaking form and cooly poured himself a glass of liquor. His voice was calm now, it was quiet, almost gentle. “You simply just can’t be one of us.”

The fans overhead seemed to slice through the air but couldn’t convince the air around the blades to move.

Tom was going on and on, moving away from Gatsby, saying everything but nothing at all. Gatsby’s temper had risen quickly and Gatsby couldn’t hear a word Tom was spewing for instead he heard the loud thunder of blood in his ears. The ice in his trembling glass quivered in fear.

This time, Tom had gone too far.

“YOU SHUT UP!” Gatsby exploded. The liquor that had been only a second before spread neatly out on the table was now spread everywhere as Gatsby raked his hands across it; glass shattered and drinks spilled and ice flew; but that wasn’t where everyone’s eyes were. “SHUT UP!” They were all focused on the two forms colliding, Gatsby had Tom clenched in his fist by the throat, his face red and pupils small. “ _SHUT UP!_ ” Shoulders tight, arm raised, the blond was only seconds away from shattering Tom’s facial structure into a thousand pieces.

But Tom was smiling, for he had won.

Sliver by sliver, fragment by fragment, Tom had broken through Gatsby’s thick exterior and he had broken him. He had pushed and poked and prodded Gatsby to the edge and now Gatsby had thrown himself over it. For a moment, Tom was held in the air by Gatsby’s angry form, but as they leaned back, Tom pressed his forehead to Gatsby’s.

Gatsby looked as if he had killed a man, but Tom smirked and stared the man down. Their sweat mingled together on their heated skin. Tom laughed, a small chuckle in the back of his throat.

Gatsby shook like a leaf in a windstorm. His hair looked like it had been through a storm too, the carefully combed blond wave dangled over his brow and shadowed his face, leading further to the conclusion that this was not a controlled man. Second by second he was receding back into himself.

Tom was calm. Tom inhaled, his bulky chest expanding proudly as he pushed Gatsby forward by the look on his face; an alpha and his lower servant. Gatsby still had that look on his face as he pulled back from Tom, his eyes flicking up and down over Tom’s face.

“I’m sorry…” Gatsby gulped, breathing hard. “I’m sorry.. I seem to have lost my temper.” Like a fish out of water, his mouth opened and closed, but no further apologies came out.

He turn and ran out of the room.

Tom chuckled as if he had expected that reaction. Around him, his friends and wife were deathly still, breath held in their throats as they stared at Tom.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s alright.” Tom reassured nobody in particular. “He won’t hurt me.”

Tom swaggered out of the room.

As soon as he was away from everyone else’s prying eyes, a smirk slid onto his face. He had won. Gatsby had given in.

“Gatsby.” Tom called. He stalked down the hall, steps loud and thundering, his hot skin burning in the heat of the closed space. “Gatsby!” He couldn’t have gone far, and Tom knew he wouldn’t leave. Not yet. “Jay.” The name sounded sweetly sour on his lips. Where could he be?

Tom found Gatsby lying on a bed in a spare room, face up and eyes closed. His mouth was open as he breathed, his short breaths quick. Gatsby’s skin glistened with sweat. His pink suit top had been thrown carelessly on the floor.

Tom stood in the doorway. He took up most of the frame with his bulky arms crossed, almost in an intimidating stance, but when he spoke, it was soft. “Jay.”

Gatsby was up in a second, up to his feet, his face pink and his blue eyes blazing. Tom slowly, at his own pace, walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Jay. You stormed off.” Tom said, pursing his lips in a mock pout.

“You know exactly why I did, old sport.” Gatsby’s words were hushed and he hissed them between his teeth like steam from a broken pipe.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me.” Tom was slowly nearing closer to gatsby.

“I would have-”

“Yes?” Tom was now almost looming above Gatsby.

Again, Gatsby’s voice was hushed. “You know what I would have done.”

“Tell me.”

“I would have _kissed_ you.”

“Is that so? Kiss me then.”

Gatsby did.

He swelled up to meet Tom’s awaiting lips. Tom nearly crushed Gatsby’s lips to wine but Gatsby didn’t care, he loved every second of it. He had been waiting all day, ignoring Tom’s taunting and teasing the best he could, but now he was being rewarded, he was getting what he wanted.

Tom opened his mouth against Gatsby’s and the heat between them grew- as if it weren’t already hot enough. Gatsby couldn't help the small noises that would escape his throat as Tom got inventive with his tongue.

Suddenly Tom knocked them over onto the bed, Gatsby’s body flush between the mattress and Tom’s large body.

“You just love this, don’t you.” He growled into Gatsby’s ear. “You love it when I kiss you like this.” Tom’s hot mouth connected with Gatsby’s skin at his jawline. Teeth and tongue and breath pushed against Gatsby’s neck. Gatsby did love it, he did, but he’d never admit it to Tom for Tom would use it against him in the worst way he could think up, to sling at him when they were surrounded by their friends. Tom’s figure easily pressed into Gatsby’s and whenever he moved in the slightest, Gatsby could feel every curve of every muscle on his rival’s body.

“You know, old sport, we shouldn’t-” Gatsby’s thoughts were hard to collect because Tom was still getting inventive with his tongue at Gatsby’s collar bones but he struggled through. “Tom, really, what if someone finds us?”

Tom hummed deeply. “Daisy won’t come looking for us, we both know that. Jordan wouldn’t care, and Nick likes to watch.”

“He- he what?”

Tom grinned, burying his face into Gatsby’s shoulder. “You learn a lot of things in college. Not that you’d know. Now shut up, your voice is irritating.”

Gatsby began to protest, his voice was not irritating, thank you very much, but Tom met his mouth again with his own before he could say another word.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” Tom said, his strong hands at Gatsby’s sides. “Why don’t you take your shirt off.” Tom sat up, straddling Gatsby’s hips, and Gatsby knew the appeal he could have on people.

Not only did Tom ooze confidence and power, he was wealthy and quick witted. His eyes were never dull. He wore tight clothes and a permanent smirk that Gatsby would have punched off of anyone else’s face. He was good at sports. He had a pretty wife and was good at talking people into things. He read books about very important topics. He had a grand house and went to parties. Overall, if you could get past his overbearing personality and rude attitude, he was a nice guy.

Gatsby hated him.

Every fiber of his being screamed _punch his lights out punch his lights out_ but that appeal managed to override that feeling. The way Tom smirked against Gatsby’s mouth and held him down roughly but still ever so gently was something Daisy had never given him… and he loved it. He couldn’t get enough of it.

So Gatsby took his shirt off.

Tom took it and cast it aside and it landed by Gatsby’s pink suit top. Strong fingers roamed up Gatsby’s torso, pushing and brushing and tickling their way up Gatsby’s ribcage.

Mouths met, hot and open and wanting, with no restraints or guards. The taste of the expensive liquor was still on Gatsby’s lips and Tom could taste it. It was bitter and strong and had an smoky undertone.

It didn’t take long for there to be no clothes involved in the situation. The heat only could increase as Gatsby kept crying out even though he trying his best not to, as Tom kept whispering Jay, as their touches got rougher and quicker.

“You like that?” Tom hummed into Gatsby’s ear, his hand working at Gatsby’s source of pleasure. It was very one sided, Tom was focused solely on making those wonderful noises Gatsby tried his best to hide grow louder. “You’re so worked up, Jay. Can you feel that heat?”

His blond hair fell over his eyes as he nodded. Gatsby absolutely could, it was pushing under his skin, coiling in his belly and collecting at his hips, and his skin burned like fire wherever Tom touched him. Noises and whines kept bubbling up his throat and past his teeth, no matter how hard he tried to stop them. Gatsby only tried to stop them because the look on Tom’s face when he heard them was too much. It was a look he had seen too many times before smeared across Tom’s sharp features. It was one of pride and victory.

Gatsby caught Tom’s lips against his own. He tried to fight back and dominate the other man, but one sharp bite against his bottom lip broke any will he had. Tom’s hand was still working devilishly between their bodies, stroking and touching everywhere Gatsby wanted to be touched, and Tom grinned when Gatsby’s back arched. Their bodies pushed together.

“Can’t get enough, can you, Jay?” Dark hooded eyes stared into Gatsby’s electric blue ones. Suddenly that intense gaze was gone and Tom had moved elsewhere. Gatsby quickly found out exactly where. A warm set of lips were working their way down Gatsby’s belly, and across his hips. Gatsby’s breath hitched in his throat, his mind reeling with all the thoughts of what could follow in the next few moments. Tom’s teeth dragged painfully slowly across the surface of Gatsby’s upper thigh, teasing, driving Gatsby crazy.

Then, without warning, Tom took all of Gatsby into his mouth. Gatsby gasped in pure pleasure as Tom got inventive with his tongue.

“ _Shit_ , Tom, oh god--” Hands clutching desperately at the sheets, Gatsby felt strung tight as a wire, bound to snap at any second. Tom swallowed around Gatsby and Gatsby moaned outright, loud and unexpected. He pressed one shaking hand against his mouth, hissing through his teeth. Tom chuckled. He pulled away from Gatsby.

“Don’t have to hide it.” Tom said, his words barely strung together. “No one is going to hear us.” Tom pressed a kiss to Gatsby’s thigh. “Let me know how good this feels.”

Gatsby did as he was told. After that moment, when Tom’s tongue pressed against him in just the right way, Gatsby refused to choke down the rising sounds. Tom worked quick and dirty. Soon Gatsby had reached all he could take, and his hips pushed off the bed as all the tension left his body.

Tom still looked too smug as he rose again. Gatsby’s breath was shuddering as Tom pressed a single, soft kiss against Gatsby’s parted lips.

It was moments like that that kept Gatsby tied to Tom. Because he cared. Daisy had never kissed him afterwards. Tom laid close beside Gatsby as the blond drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, feeling secure in Tom’s strong arms.

Finally though, it was time for them to go and face the others again. Tom had already begun to dress when Gatsby rose to full consciousness. He stood imposing in the corner of the room, in front of the golden edged mirror leaning against the wall.

“And there he is.” Toms voice was gentle. His dark eyes watched Gatsby in the mirror. “Mr. Sunshine himself.” Gatsby took these soft words and locked them away in his chest for a rainy day. He knew that Tom’s voice would change the second they stepped out that door. Tom buttoned up his shirt to the top button. The tie came next, and Gatsby simply sat there and watched the quick and precise movements Tom took to dress himself fully, and it was only when Tom had turned and leaned over to press a rough kiss to the side of Gatsby’s mouth that Gatsby got up to do the same.

Tom stood in the doorway, his arms crossed like they had been just hours before. His blue shirt was slightly wrinkled and he seemed gentler somehow. When Gatsby had assembled his pink suit properly again, he met Tom at the doorway, looking up at him ever so slightly.

“Jay,” Tom whispered, and that’s all that needed to be said. That’s all he could say.

Gatsby smiled, and they made their way out of the room.

  
  
  
  


_“I’m being selfish here, but I got to play the best character in the piece. Tom is such a piece of work, such an arrogant racist, but a pigheaded, wealthy, sex-driven beast.”_

_–  Joel Edgerton (the guy who played tom in the movie)_

**Author's Note:**

> haha i didnt even beta this


End file.
